The Letter
by CallistahFF
Summary: I've had dreams of writing letters to you for weeks but I never seemed to get past the first sentence.


_I've had dreams of writing letters to you for weeks, but I never seemed to get past the first sentence. _

When you were first sentenced to Azkaban, I was happy. I thought that you were getting what you finally deserved for all those years of cruelty to Harry, Ron, and myself. I was blind and never considered the fact that your father had raised you to be that way, to think that you were better than everyone. All I could see was that you were a spoiled brat, and you hated anyone who was not like yourself. Again, I never stopped to consider what had made you the way you were.

An owl arrived on my windowsill two weeks after that, carrying a package containing your journal. I still don't know who sent it to me, and to be honest, I don't really think it matters. The words flowed right off those pages and into my heart. They were heavy, dark, and stung my mind like the many beatings from your father that you had described. A particular memory stands out, and it is the one, I believe, that finally changed my mind about you.

_I told my Father that I didn't want to join Lord Voldemort tonight. He looked at me with disgust and then asked again if he had heard correctly. My mother knew what was coming, told me that I should be ashamed of myself, and quickly left before she had to be subjected to the guilt she would feel, when my father was through with me._

_ My previous words were fumbling out of my mouth again, and before I could even finish, my father had thrown me back into the wall. I hate it when he acts that way. As if he had never felt the urge to go against Voldemort. I personally think he hates me for doing what he never could._

_ Seconds later I realized that I had spoken those words aloud, and knew that things were going to get 10 times worse. Instead, my father just looked at me, with an expression I have never seen before._

_ "You're absolutely right, Draco. I do hate you, and it is for doing what I never could. I never could turn my back on the Dark Lord. And I never wanted to." _

_ He yelled the last bit at me, and before I could react, he had cast Cruciatus on me. It wasn't the first time he had done so, but it was almost as if he thought he could torture the sense of rebellion out of my head. Wanting it to stop, and knowing he would stop only if I gave him the answer he wanted, I found the will to fight through the pain and screamed, "OKAY. I'LL DO IT."_

_ I wish I had just laid there and died. I didn't want to take the Dark Mark, and yet now, I sit here, staring at the vile thing on my arm. No amount of wishing is going to make it go away. No amount of crying is going to erase the things I have seen. I just wish I could do things differently._

You see, when I read that the first time, I thought that surely someone was sending me a false journal, to try and get your freedom secured. I expected that whoever sent it was hoping that my kind heart would immediately rush to save an innocent soul. They were wrong.

I threw into the drawer of my desk, where it sat for another three months.

I try to tell myself it was by chance that I stumbled across your journal at the bottom of that drawer, but there is no sense lying to myself. I had seen it in my dreams, and I had tasted the guilt that was settled at the base of my stomach. It was vile and turned my soul into knots. I was stuck between doing what I felt was right if the journal was indeed true or just leaving it there and letting you serve the sentence you deserved.

Yet, the feeling that the journal was true kept gnawing at my conscience. The journal spoke of things that only you would know. For instance, the one entry dated back third year:

_Hermione Granger punched me in the nose today. She's lucky I'm a gentleman at heart, or I would have cursed her. I do think, that Hermione's fist touching my skin, was the best three seconds of my life. Hopefully no one ever finds out, I'd be dead for liking her._

Of course, I couldn't believe what I was reading when I came across that. You? Liking me? It was absolutely absurd. So after a day or two, and after a few extensive work ups to see that the journal was indeed legitimate, I made my way to the Ministry of Magic.

I wasn't sure who to speak with about the matter, so I took it to one of the only contacts I had in the ministry, Harry. He surprised me and actually read the journal too. I was certain he would set fire to it or something, and as such, there is a copy of the book sitting on my bookshelf just in case. After a few days, Harry summoned me back to his office and we had a long discussion about what should be done.

He wasn't entirely convinced everything in the journal was valid but he did trust me, as he knew that I had very strong intuitions. It was decided that there would be an inquiry with a few others Aurors about it and that Harry would let me knew in a few more days what was going to happen. It wouldn't look good for the Ministry if they had convicted an innocent person.

I went home that night, feeling good about things. I knew that I had made the right choice but there was still a nagging feeling in my heart. I felt the need to apologize. I felt the need to say to you all that I had been feeling, that I was sorry for never having seen who you really were. I thought of all the times I had seen you looking at me, when you thought I didn't notice. I never mentioned it to anyone of course.

I see now, that perhaps that was some silent plea of yours. That if you looked at me hard enough, and if i looked back, that somehow, I would learn of your pain. All these memories made the nagging feeling to speak to you ever more pressing. I tried to write a letter, but failed.

You see, I'd had dreams about writing to you for weeks, but never got past the first sentence.

When Harry finally sent me an owl stating that a new trial was going to be held for you, I was ecstatic. Finally, things were going to be corrected. Then I realized, that I never stopped to consider what you wanted. I never stopped to think if getting out of Azkaban was what you wanted. I wanted to know for sure that I what I had done, was right by your eyes. Surely you wanted out of that horrid place?

I arranged a visitation to see you, and although I had a little bit of fear that you would refuse my visit, things went smoothly. I was escorted to your cell quickly. Taken aback doesn't begin to describe the feelings I felt when I saw you for the first time there. You were sitting against the wall, your head buried in your hands, sobbing. When I walked over to you, I felt so helpless, like nothing I could do would matter. The details of the conversation are lost to me now, but I do remember that you considered if you deserved such a new chance at life. I held you as you cried, and I cried too.

"You're going to make it through this Draco. You'll have a chance to be the man you've always wanted to be."

The look on your face when I whispered that to you was filled with such awe, and curiously enough, love. That is why when you leaned over to kiss me, I wasn't surprised. I wasn't disgusted. In fact, I was happy. It seemed we were so happy, that I subconsciously produced a Patronus, and was quickly escorted from the premises. It seems Dementors don't like having Patronuses cast in their territory.

The next few days passed quickly, and the feeling of your lips against mine faded quickly as well, despite the many times I sat trying to conjure up the feeling again. I knew though, that it would happen again.

Your trial was held on a Monday morning. I felt the irony, as it was four months previous, on a Monday morning, that your journal had arrived at my window. I was, of course, to give the lead testimony regarding your innocence. I was surprised, however, to see your Father had been let out of Azkaban to give testimony as well. Sitting there, waiting for the trial to start, I kept wondering what it was your Father planned to say.

After my half an hour long testimony in which I referenced your journal many times, I was still a little worried that perhaps I wasn't going to be enough to win your freedom. That was, perhaps, the only time I was ever happy to see Lucius Malfoy open his mouth. His voice was weak, as the effects of that horrid jail had almost withered out all life in him. When the Chief Warlock asked for his name, he glared at the man, but delivered his name in a monotone voice, which was clearly the effect of Veritaserum. I found it was peculiar that they would use it on Lucius, but the thought was gone when he began to answer the question posed by the Interrogators.

Your father talked of how much you had disappointed him, not wanting to follow the Dark Lord, and how you had, on many occasions, seemed reluctant to join him on any endeavors. He spoke of how he had raised you, and that at least, you hadn't disappointed him in that regard. He admitted that he knew you would have never turned out the way you had if he had not taught you to be arrogant, and hate anyone who was different. It also seemed that he begrudgingly admitted that if you had been given a choice, you would have chosen Ravenclaw as your house, instead of Slytherin like he had told you to choose.

When the Minister asked Lucius to verify the events of the night you had agreed to take the Dark Mark, it was exactly as you had written. He went on to say that you had never participated in any events the Dark Lord held, and always stayed back, making your presence known only for the satisfaction of the Dark Lord. It was the lack of action on your part, that caused Voldemort to task you with murdering Dumbledore. The events of that incident had been previously cleared, on both yours and Severus Snape's behalf. I had never been more thankful for talking portraits of previous Headmasters then.

After Lucius finished answering the questions given to him, the Wizengamot took a break for deliberation, which is, as you know, very rare. Whispers shot through that room like wildfire. Harry had accompanied me to the trial, and it was then that he told me he had always thought there was more to you than met the eye. Essentially, it seemed that Harry was giving his blessing on you and I, although how he knew something was going to come out of it all is beyond me. He also explained that the other Aurors thought against the idea of letting you testify at your own trial, because they didn't think you would do well under Veritaserum, since you had been having such a difficult time in Azkaban.

When the Wizengamot returned, the voting started, although I knew that the decision had already been made, and that the voting was merely for the public show. I can't tell you how surprised I was when the voting started.

The only person to vote against letting you go free, and paying your the sum of 10,000 galleons for wrongly accusing you, was Dolores Umbridge. I was too excited to wonder why the old hag was still on the panel, and immediately asked Harry when they were going to let you go. He said that after some paperwork and processing, it would be fairly soon.

Returning home, I felt the happiest I had felt in a very long time, and actually slept the entire night through.

I didn't except you to arrive on my doorstop at 8 am the next morning. I'll admit, I was very shocked to see you. I had no previous intentions of seeing you as a free man for the first time, in my pajamas. I'm sure my hair resembled a bird's nest, and that I looked positively disheveled. You didn't care though. You stepped right through my doorway, dropped your bags, kicked my door closed with your foot and kissed me. I instantly forgot how I looked, or that I hadn't brushed my teeth, or that I hadn't showered.

You, Draco Malfoy, were kissing me. You were free, and it was because of me. I remember that you looked me in the eyes, with tears falling down your cheeks, and you whispered, "I love you, Hermione." I was too stunned to say it back, and instead, I kissed you.

We made love for the first time on my couch. I remember you nudged Crookshanks off with your foot, and he left a long scratch on your leg before turning tail and stalking off. He still doesn't like you for that, you know. I also remember picking orange lint out of your blonde hair, and thinking of what a lovely contrast in made. The rest of the day passed quickly, although I felt so amazing all the way through. I fervently pushed the topic of your journal, in hopes that I would find more out about you, as I was too impatient to find out over time.

Later in the evening, when I sat on the couch reading, you brought me over a plate of the lunch you had made. I was so overtaken by the kindness of your actions, that I started crying. You jokingly told me that if I didn't like fish and chips, all I had to do was say so, and that crying about it was going a little overboard. Before then, fish and chips was just an okay dish for me. Now, it's my absolute favorite because it always reminds me of the moment I realized how I felt about you.

I love you, Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione, love? Come here for a second." Draco said, putting down the paper in his hands. He was leaned against the arm of an orange couch, stretched out rather comfortably, while a fluffy cat sat at the end, hissing at him. Rolling his eyes at the cat, he shooed it away with the flick of the paper before the woman he called arrived in the room.

"Yes?" She asked, leaning over the couch, giving him a questioning look.

"I read the letter."

Her eyes widened in surprise, as she realized what the paper he was holding was.

"I didn't think you actually would."

"Of course I would. You wrote it, and it is therefore, the best thing I have ever read."

She giggled at his statement, but grew serious as he gave her the same look he did, the day he first walked through her door.

"I love you too, Mrs. Malfoy."


End file.
